Rage and Mystification
by Hake Balms
Summary: Harry’s 6th year. The wizarding world turns its back on Harry, so Harry decides to turn his back, too. Harry becomes depressed and suicidal. Well, until a certain Gryffindor girl comes along and gives him a reason to keep fighting, to keep living. HPHG.
1. Depression

**Rage and Mystification**

**Author's Note: **I do not own the characters, they belong to J. K. Rowling. Please Read and Review -- whether good or bad- so I know where I stand. Also, this is one of my first fan fictions ever so, just know that I am still very new at this and that I am not one of the greatest authors in the world.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or any of the Harry Potter characters. I just like to have my own twisted ways with them. : )

**Rated R for:** violence, language, many depressing things, imagery and graphic detail, and so on.

**Summary:** Harry's 6th year. The wizarding world turns its back on Harry, so Harry decides to turn his back, too. Harry becomes depressed and suicidal. Well, until a certain Gryffindor girl comes along and gives him a reason to keep fighting, to keep living. HP/HG. Also, this story is in no way meant to be cute, comforting, and happy. This story is meant to be a little depressing, dark, and something down right nasty.

Also, bqbqbqbqbqbq means a break.

bqbqbqbqbqbq

Chapter One

Depression

A single nightmare of a single moment that will stay in a young boy's memory forever. A single nightmare had woken him up. A single tear rolled down a young boy's face. A single gasp came from a young boy. A single shudder went down the young boy's spine. A single strand of raven hair fell in front of a young boy's emerald green eyes. A single feeling was in a young boy's heart, guilt. A single thought went though the boy's mind; _it's my fault._

A young boy was sitting on his bed looking out the window wishing that he could become someone else, anyone else. The young boy was wishing that this life was not his own and that he lived a happy life where no one felt pain and no one died. But, the young boy knew no matter how hard he may wish, that his wish would never come true. The young boy was wishing that someone would appear and take him away. Far away, away from all of the pain that had been claiming him and away from all of the pain that caused him to feel like he was losing his mind.

He continued to stare up through the window at the twinkling stars. Couldn't see the stars that well considering that his glass were not resting on his face but on his nightstand beside his bed. The young boy reached his hand out and grasped his glass and gently laid them upon his pale face.

As he looked at the stars, he felt trapped. He felt like he was stuck behind the glass window. He felt like he was drowning in a pool of darkness and couldn't seem up come back up to the surface for air. He felt like the entire world was closing in on him. He felt like everyone blamed him and in a sense, he couldn't blame them either. He felt like his whole life meant absolutely nothing.

The young boy got off of his bed and started to pace around the small room. He wanted to leave, but he had nowhere to go; besides he knew that he had to stay there at least for one more week. Then he would be able to escape, he could leave; he could go to his friend's house for the rest of the summer.

The young boy sat back down on his bed. He raised his hands up to his face, to cover the tears that were now streaming down his face. He took in a sharp gasp as he started down the same road he had been on before. He started to let the memories take over his small yet strong body. His mind started to wander towards the memories of what had happened just months before at Hogwarts.

He could remember being foolish and going to the ministry and trying to save Sirius. In the end, all he ended up doing was having Sirius killed. He could remember the look on his godfather's face as he fell behind the veil. He could remember Bellatrix Lestrange's scream. He could remember Lupin holding him in his arms. He could remember Lupin's voice telling him that he was gone, that there was nothing that they could do. The boy's body started to shake as he took in another deep gasp.

Why had this all happen to him? Why did he have to feel so much pain? Why did his parents have to die? Why did all of his friends and loved ones have to suffer because of him? Why did Voldemort choose him over Neville? Why did his godfather have to die? Why does everyone always doubt him about everything? Why did he have to be the saviour? Why did _he_ have to be the _boy who lived_? Why did they have to die? Why does everyone have to die? Why can't anyone love him? Why does everyone think that it's his fault Voldemort is back? Why does everyone have to blame him? Why can't he just be someone else? Why does he have to feel all of the pain? Why does the pain make him want to end his life? Why can't anything ever make him happy anymore? Just why?

"WHY!?!" The young boy yelled out to no one in particular. "WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU!?!? Why does it all happen to me? Why can't you just fucking leave me alone. WHY!?! Is this your idea of a sick joke or something? Do you like watching me suffer?" He didn't understand why. He never understood why. He probably will never find the real reason why. All he wanted was just to know why, that's it; he wanted to know why.

The young boy's sadness soon turned to rage. He hated Voldemort for what all he had done to Harry's life. But he hated himself even more. The young boy truly believed that it was his fault that so many people had died. _They all died trying to make sure I lived. Why can't you people just let me die!! I want to die, I wanna die; I don't want to be here anymore. I hate it here; all I ever feel is pain. I need to find an escape; I need to find away to just forget all of the pain. There's nothing here for me; so just let me leave._

The boy stood up and started to pace around the room once again. He wanted to hit something or to rip something apart; but there was nothing in his room for him to destroy. He sat down in the middle of his floor, pulled his knees up to his chin, covered his face, and let the angry tears flood down his cheeks.

_Sirius. Can you hear me!?! I hate you! I hate you for dieing on me! I loved you! You were the only adult I knew that I could count on! Why did you fucking leave me like this? I wasn't ready for you to die! My mum and dad already died! Why did you have to die too? Why did you have to leave me? Didn't you love me? Didn't you care about me? _

I really need you right now, Sirius. I miss you. I know this is lame, but it's not fair that you had to die! Everyone keeps telling me that it's not my fault, but I know it is. I'm sorry I let you down. I'm sorry I let everyone down. I'm so sorry I failed you. I'm sorry that I caused you to die.

If I could, I would go back and make sure that you lived. I just wish I could see you once again. I wish that I could just see you smile once more. I just wish that I could be with you for one more day. I wish I could have told you how much you meant to me and how much I loved you. I wish that you were here right now, I feel so empty without you in my life. It's not fair that you had to die! It's not fair because I never had anybody before you, and now you're gone too. I just wish that I could have said goodbye. Just so I could have an ending. It's too late now, because you've already left me. You fucking left me here Sirius! It's not fair… I'm the one that wanted to die…I didn't want you to die!

The young boy's body began to shake uncontrollably as he began to cry even harder. He tried to suppress his crying, for he didn't want to wake up the Durleys. The young boy bit down on his lip to keep himself from gasping out. All he managed to do was to bite down too hard and give himself a bloody lip.

He didn't care because he was just trying to keep himself from crying again. He hated crying, even though he cried a lot lately. Crying made him feel weak, it made him feel like he has no control over his life, it made him feel like he was undeserving of life. Even though he hated all of those things, he still couldn't keep himself from crying over his dead godfather.

Without Sirius, the young boy felt completely alone in the world. Even though he had his two best friends in the world Ron and Hermione, the young boy still felt alone. He knew that he could tell his friends anything and that they would try to help him, they would try to understand him, and try and work around whatever problem it was. But the young boy didn't think they would be able to understand what was going through his mind. He didn't think that they would understand what kind of depression he was going through; even if they try to understand him they never would be able to relate.

The young raven-haired boy didn't want to be trapped in his room anymore; he didn't want to be trapped in thoughts of his godfather. He didn't want to be in there anymore; he needed out and he needed out now. The boy slowly opened his door; for he didn't want to wake his aunt or uncle. He didn't want any more trouble than what he has already caused. The boy walked down the hall and went into the bathroom. He closed and locked the door, that way if one of the Durleys did wake up the couldn't bother him. He turned the faucet on, cupped some water in his hands, and splashed it on his face.

He looked up at the mirror above the bathroom sink. The young boy looked into the mirror and saw himself. Even though he was looking at himself he knew that he no longer looked like the same old him. The young boy's bright green eyes were red and puffy and the colour was dull from the crying, his lips looked red and swollen, and he looked even paler and sickly than he normally did. He stared at his pale and sickly reflection for quite some time. Before letting memories of many people telling him the same thing over and over cross his mind, "You look just like James, expect you have your mother's eyes."

He remembered one person who told him the most about his parents. The one person who knew his parents best. The one person whom he trusted more than anybody else in the world. The young boy still wasn't comfortable about thinking, talking or anything about his godfather. "Merlin…SIRIUS!!!! I miss you."

The young boy let out a strangled cry. More tears began to make their marks down his cheeks. His breathing began to come in ragged pants. He didn't know what to do his body was begging to grow dizzy. Harry placed his hands on the bathroom counter top for support. He looked into the mirror once again. The young boy's thoughts began to swirl around him as his mind began to get lost inside of all of his memories.

_I'm sorry I was ever born. I'm sorry that you were made my godfather. I'm sorry that it's my fault your best friend had to die. I'm sorry that it's my fault that you were put in Azkaban. I'm sorry that everyone that it was your fault, when it was really mine. I'm sorry that people made you into a bad guy. I'm sorry that I thought you were the reason my parents are dead. I'm sorry that I made everyone in the Wizarding world hate you. I'm sorry for all of the shit that I have put you through. I'm sorry that you ever had to meet me. I'm sorry that you ever thought I was a good kid. I'm sorry that you ever thought that I could be a decent person. I'm sorry that you loved me. _

I'm sorry that you got stuck in the black house for a year. I'm sorry that when you did go outside you had to be a dog. I'm sorry that I literally caused your life to be a hell hole. I'm sorry that I made you relive memories that you wished that you could have forgot. I'm sorry that no matter what I did, I messed your life up even more. I'm sorry that I didn't listen to what you, Dumbledore, and Snape had to say. I'm sorry that you stayed up worried about me. I'm sorry that I ever wasted your time with my foolish boyhood problems. I'm sorry that we didn't have a better relationship.

I'm sorry for all of the pain I have caused you. I'm sorry for all of the shame that I have brought upon your name. I'm sorry that I caused you to disgrace the Black family name. I'm sorry that I'm the reason why you had to go into hiding. I'm sorry that I'm the reason why you lost all of your friends.

I'm sorry for making you come to the ministry. I'm sorry that you thought it was your duty to save my sorry arse. I'm sorry that you died because of my stupidity. I'm sorry because I let myself love you and care for you. I'm sorry that you loved me more than anyone else I know. Sirius I love you, and I need you, I miss you, but I can't have you in my life anymore. Most of all Sirius, I'm sorry that you ever met me, that you let yourself care for me, when in return I just let you die.

Sirius I know I have done nothing but caused you pain and I'm truly sorry. I don't mean be such a problem to people, I don't mean to cause so much trouble; it's just that bad things always seem to follow me wherever I go. Well, mainly just Voldemort follows me wherever I go. Sirius I just wish, that you could come back to me just for one day. Just so I could tell you all of this, so I could have my good-bye, just so I could see you again.

I know that you loved me and I love you too. I know that I may not be the best person in the world, but you always made me feel like I could be the best in the world if I tried. I know that you'll never come back and I know that I'll never really have my goodbye. I know this is late, but good-bye Sirius.

The young boy's hands slipped off of the bathroom counter. He became so dizzy. He felt like he was just going to fall straight over. The young boy sank down into the floor of the bathroom like a puddle of water. Tears were matted all over his face, his eyes were red and puffy, and he was shaking from the sharp gasps of air he was taking. He lay their for a while, trying to get the thoughts out of his mind. He didn't want to cry anymore; he had had enough of crying for one night. He sat up with his back against the bathroom door trying to will his brain back to normal functioning again.

It didn't matter how hard he tried; the pain of it all just didn't seem to go away. He needed it to go away. The young boy wanted an escape. As he sat there in the bathroom floor trying to come up with a way to get rid of the pain, something caught his eye. He picked himself off of the ground and walked over to the object. There it was sitting there in the open medicine cabinet. It was just so beautiful, the way that it seemed to gleam in the light. The young boy eyed it lustfully before picking it up and running his fingers over the smooth yet sharp edges.

The boy looked at the item. He raised the sleeve of his left arm up to his shoulder. He put the object on the underside of his left arm. It felt cold against his skin, but he wanted to forget about the pain. He brought the object down his arm; causing his skin to rip open and blood begin to gush out of the open wound. Pain tore through the young boy's mind as his uncle's razor ripped through his skin. The young boy wanted to scream out in pain, but as the burning sensation from his arm flooded his mind, he forgot about all of his other problems and all of the pain.

Cutting his skin open caused him to realize that he was alive. It helped him know that this wasn't some kind of bad dream. Watching the blood run down his arm gave him an odd sort of feeling. The boy lifted the razor back up to his arm and began to cut himself again and again. He gasp out with each cut. He felt like he was in ecstasy.

As the blood started to trickle down his arm, the boy felt like he had a new control over his life and nobody even had to know that he was doing it. He could easily hide it; he could even hide it with a muggle tee shirt. Little did this boy know that what he had just done would cause him a whole new world of problems. The great, wonderful, strong, and famous Harry Potter had just cut himself, had ripped his skin apart; because he felt weak.

To Be Continued…

**Author's Note : **I am going to try and update this story every Saturday, if possibly. Anyway, I will see you all next chapter.


	2. Just a Letter

Rage and Mystification 

**Author's Note** I'm so sorry about how long it has taken me to update! Anyways, back to the story.

**Disclaimer **I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters. I just like to have my own twisted ways with them. : )

**Rated NC-17 for **violence, language, many depressing things, imagery and graphic detail, and so on

**Summary **Harry's 6th year. The wizarding world turns its back on Harry, so Harry decides to turn his back, too. Harry becomes depressed and suicidal. Well, until a certain Gryffindor girl comes along and gives him a reason to keep fighting, to keep living. HP/HG. Also, this story is in no way meant to be cute, comforting, and happy. This story is meant to be a little depressing, dark, and something down right nasty.

**WARNING! **There will be a little bit of graphic imagery. Also, there is a slight mention of Ron/Hermione, but even though they are dating, it won't last…she gets with Harry in a couple of chapters!

**Bqbqbqbqbqbq**

**Chapter 2**

**Just a Letter**

Harry dropped the razor on the floor beside him. He looked down at the blood trickling down his arm. As he watched the blood trickle down, he noticed that a few droplets of blood appeared on the Dursley's cream white tile floor. Harry slowly began to pick himself up off of the cold bathroom floor. He looked down and couldn't believe the amount of blood that was on the floor, but at the same time, he could really care less.

He loved the new feeling that his body was going through, but at the same time he couldn't believe what he had just done. As he watched his blood flow out of the wound and down onto his arm, he felt shame. It just didn't seem right, but yet he loved the feeling so much he wanted to cut himself again and again. Just so he could watch the blood run out of his arm.

The more he watched the blood, the more he began to feel. He could actually feel the pain. He loved it, but at the same time he hated it. Before, he could just pretend that it was all some kind of horrible nightmare and that eventually he would wake up; but now, now he knew. He knew that it wasn't just some dream; he knew that this was his life and there was no getting around it. In dreams you can get cut and it won't hurt, but in life it does hurt. He loved being able to feel it, because now that he knew that it was _real _and that his life was real,he could move on in life.

He loved it so much because before with the pain, he couldn't tell where it came from. He knew that it was an emotion, but he didn't know whether it came from his head or his heart. But this, this pain was from his arm. Now, he knew exactly where all of the pain was coming from.

He walked over towards the finely made sink in his aunt and uncle's bathroom. He turned on the water and tried to clean his cut. He tried to wash away his blood; he tried to wash away the evidence of the crime he had committed. He wanted to wash it all away so nobody would know about his new little pleasure.

Harry tried and tried to wash away his blood, to wash away his new little sins. But it just didn't matter, the harder he tried to clean it up the cut or to cover the cut, it just bled more. Finally, after a few minutes of trying to clean himself up he just gave up. He looked through the medicine cabinet until he found what he was looking for. He wrapped the bandage around his wound until he thought that it was sufficient enough.

He slowly opened the door to the bathroom and began to sneak out. He had to be extremely quite, for he did have to pass his cousin's room in order to get to his own. Harry was half way there when he heard a noise. He didn't know what it was from but it did sound an awful like Dudley talking in his sleep. Once he passed Dudley's room he was safe and quickly and quietly went back to his bedroom.

As Harry entered his room he grabbed his white tee shirt, that was now stained with blood, and tore it off, leaving it and his pants in a little pile in the centre of the room. Harry had felt very tired, but he didn't want to go to sleep. He was afraid. He wasn't afraid of the dark or anything, but he was afraid of the nightmares he had while he slept.

One more nightmare of Sirius dieing or one more nightmare about what Voldemort was going to and Harry thought he just might lose his mind. He was tired of the nightmares; he was tired of watching Sirius and Cedric die over and over. He was tired of watching the sick things that Voldemort did to people. Harry took his glasses off and laid them on the bedside table and then proceeded to lay himself down onto his bed.

He started to stare out of his bedroom window; he couldn't really make out any objects since his glasses were no longer on his face. None the less, he stared out the window trying to make out the shapes of the other houses, the streetlights, trees, and stars. Longer he stared at an object the odder the object started to look. Longer he looked out the window the heavier his eyelids became.

Finally Harry decided that it didn't matter how bad the nightmares may be, he needed to sleep. As long as he at least got one hour of sleep, the nightmare would be worth it. The young boy rolled over in his bed and started to drift off to sleep, when he heard a clicking noise on the window.

When he turned around to look at what it was, it looked like an owl; like Ron's owl, Pig. Harry jumped out of bed put his glasses on and pulled the window open, letting Pig into his room. The little owl flew a lap around Harry's room before he dropped the letter in Harry's lap then laid himself down on Harry's desk.

Harry desperately ripped the letter open, he was hoping that it would be Ron's letter saying that they were coming to take him out of this place, away from Little Whinging, to take him away from his aunt and uncle's house. But what was on the inside of this letter was nothing that Harry could have suspected.

_Harry,_

_I hate to have to tell you like this mate, but I'm sorry. You can't come out to the burrow this summer. Mum and Dad said that 'we just have too many things going on.' I don't know what my mum and dad are on about; they've been acting well, strange. Mum said that as soon as 'Mione gets her she'll explain everything to me and her about what's going on._

_Well they've been acting strange ever since Percy came back to the family saying how sorry he is. And how he can now see the errors of his ways. He keeps going on and on about how Fudge said that if he put as much distance between you and us that would be the best thing to do. That it would be in the best interest of everyone. _

_It's a load of crap if you ask me, but mum is buying; and dad doesn't dare cross her. Mom has always believed Percy over the rest of us, even when he did go against the family. Mom just said that he was growing up and trying to find out who he is and where he belongs and crap like that. I can't stand her when it comes to him and I can't ever stand that bloody bastard._

_I personally believe that he's got something up his sleeve. It wouldn't surprise me one bit if he was just trying to brainwash us all and get us to follow Voldemort. He's always been the slimy one of the family. Fred and George, now they are tricky, but they aren't two-timers like Percy. _

_I know that you were really looking forward to coming out, but you can't. I really want you to, I mean, I don't really want you staying out there at the Dursley's. Well, especially after well, you know. I'm going to miss having you around Harry. I really wish mum and dad would let you come out here, but I don't know. I hope the Muggles aren't treating you too badly. I wish you could be here. If you can, write back sometime. It would be nice getting an owl from you!_

_Ron_

_p.s. Guess What! It finally happened! Me and 'Mione are well, you know, together! See you on September the 1st. Oh yeah, by the way, Happy Early Birthday! I don't think I'll get another chance to tell you, so I might as well now._

Harry dropped the letter in confusion. He couldn't understand what Ron had meant. _What did they mean by 'we just have too many things going on?' What in the fuck could they possibly be doing that's so important? There's nothing that they could be doing, they don't have the money to do anything. There is obviously something that Ron isn't telling me. There has to be something. _

The whole summer he had been looking forward to getting out of this hellhole and now he finds out that he _has _to stay here. He knew that Dumbledore wanted him to stay out at his aunt and uncle's house for at least 3 weeks, but not for the whole summer. Surely someone, anyone would soon come and get him out of here.

Harry fell numbly to the floor. His world started to spin in rage and mystification. Harry was mad at the world; he hated everyone. It wasn't fair that he had to stay here. He clenched his hands into fists. He needed another release for his anger. He couldn't control himself. He picked himself up off of the floor. He was pacing across the room. He _needed _to hit something.

For a brief moment, Harry thought of returning to the bathroom and using his uncle's razor again. But he quickly shoved that thought out of his mind. His arm was still bleeding from the last cut. He needed another release; he needed something else to help him ease the pain.

Thoughts of anger were all that was crossing Harry's mind. The only thing Harry wanted was to get the fuck out of his aunt and uncle's, but no, now he is stuck here for the rest of the summer.

Harry walked over towards the wall of his bedroom. He punched the wall as hard as he could. Pain shot through his arm. But the pain of what he had just done was worse. When he looked down at the wall he noticed something, something very bad. He had just made a gaping hold in the wall. He didn't mean to shove his hand through the wall.

"Fuck." Harry said, trying to think of something to do, so that the Durleys wouldn't find it.

Harry quickly grabbed one of the calendars on his desk and tacked it to the wall. It didn't really hide it, but it was good enough. He didn't care if they found out or not anymore. They still locked him up, they still beat him, and they still ignored him, anyway. What else could they possibly do? Ground him? _Right, they wouldn't even bother saying it to me; it would be a waste of their breath. _

Harry walked back over to his bed, trying to calm himself down. The young boy tried to take deep breaths. He tried to become more relaxed, but it just didn't work. He laid himself down on his bed; he looked up at the white ceiling, unseeing.

_What is going on? Why doesn't anyone want to help me out of here? Why hasn't Hermione, Hagrid, Lupin, or even Dumbledore sent him even just one owl? I need to know what's going on out there. I need to know what is up with Voldemort. I need out of this house. I want to be back in the wizarding world, no I need to be back in the wizarding world. _

_I can't just sit around here. I need to do something. I need to help. I can help the order. I can tell them the kind of dreams I've had. I can do anything besides sit here. They could use my help. I just wish that they would let me help. What is going on out at the Weasley's? Hermione told me that she didn't even like Ron, now she's dating him. That's odd. Maybe something happened between them. It's not fair, why does he get the girl?_

Harry still staring up at his ceiling grabbed his pillow and tried to smother himself with it. He took the pillow off of his face and laid his head back down on to it. He rolled over wanting to go to sleep, wanting to just lose himself in the dream, wanting to just disappear off the face of the Earth.

Harry was starting to drift off to sleep. When the next thing Harry saw was a flash of green light and he was being jerked out of his bed. He felt like he was going through a portkey. He landed with a loud and hard smack onto the floor into an unfamiliar room. As he got up and looked around he felt sick to his stomach.

The room, he could tell that it used to be white, but it wasn't anymore. The room was both red and brown. It was brown because of all of the dried blood stains all over the room. It was red from the fresh blood stains rolling down the walls.

Around the room, were...were bodies. Bodies chained to the wall, bodies chained the floor, and even bodies chained upside down. Some of them looked as though they were alive and others, well others looked as though they had been chained there for years. As he looked at them he noticed that most of them were men, some were women, and there were even a few children.

Harry saw a few men wearing complete black. The men dressed in black were holding whips and chains, and all different sorts of torture items. The men dressed in black walked over to a few of the men chained to the wall. Harry watched one of the men with the whips walk over to a man and take a whip and slam it against his back.

Some of the men that were chained to the wall had their backs facing Harry. Harry could see their shoulder blades sticking out through the skin. He guessed that was probably from getting beat with the whips. Harry saw that others were missing legs and arms. And the blood, it was just…everywhere.

Another one of the men walked to a man chained to the floor. He held a wand in front of the man's face. Harry watched the man on the floor pick up a knife and start cutting himself. Harry watched the man peel away his own skin. Harry watched the man have to try and eat his own skin. Harry turned away, he felt sick to his stomach.

It took a while for Harry to notice a black chair in the centre of the room. In front of the chair was a desk covered in papers. The chair and the desk looked very out of place, considering they were the only things in the room that weren't covered in blood.

There was a knock on the door and Harry snapped his neck towards the door, but heard the chair move so he turned to look at the person sitting in the chair. The man in the black chair turned around, was Voldemort. Two more men walked into the room carrying another man, well dragging another man. They were carrying him as if he was a hostage.

"Ah, Mister Malfoy and Mister Snape, I was hoping you two would be by soon." Voldemort's cold voice said into the room.

To Be Continued…

**Author's Note: **Yes, yes, I know…Ron and 'Mione… just wait, that doesn't last too long and when it's over…**HARRY/ HERMIONE!** Please, Please review… wait, why am I begging like a dog? Never mind don't review unless you really want to: ) Again, I am sorry for how long it has taken me to update! See ya next chapter!


	3. Punishment

**Rage and Mystification **

**Author's Note: **Thank you to those who reviewed! Again, thank you.

**Thank You: **To my two very best friends in the whole….opps I mean my two beta readers KG Potter and Keyan Rews! I love you guys!

**bqbqbqbqbqbq**

**Chapter Three**

**Punishment**

"Ah, Mister Malfoy and Mister Snape, I was hoping you two would be by soon." Voldemort's cold voice spoke out into the room. Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape walked further into the room, dragging a body behind them.

"Is this?" Voldemort started to say but cut off. Lucius nodded his head in reply. "Bring him to me."

Severus and Lucius both dragged the person up to Voldemort. Voldemort's hand slipped out behind his black cloak. He pulled back the young man's cloak, revealing his face. Voldemort's cold fingers ran down the young boy's jaw line. The boy flinched away from Voldemort's touch.

Voldemort grabbed the young man's chin and tilted it towards him. When he moved the young boy's face, Harry got a clear view of who it was. Voldemort's icy stare returned back to Lucius. "You should really teach your son how to act properly Lucius. Some might take his actions in a negative manor." Voldemort's cold voice harped out.

Lucius nodded his head at his lord. Seeing that Lucius agreed, Voldemort returned his gaze back at the young man in front of him, who had now fallen onto his knees. He tipped Draco's chin back up. Draco hesitantly looked up into Voldemort's eyes.

"Did you really think I would let you get away with what you've done? Did you actually think I wouldn't find out? Did you honestly think I was going to let you go to the other side? Do you honestly think I would let such a precious young man leave my ranks to join the Order?" When Draco didn't answer Voldemort kept on, "You know, you are a very beautiful young man. It is a pity really that such beauty has to go to waste. Too bad that you want to go against me. I still can't believe that you of all people would dare to defy me. I bet your father is ashamed of how you've turned out. I know I would if I had _you _for a son."

"Then again," Voldemort started turning his gaze up to Lucius, "you can't blame yourself for how this filth has turned out. I know that it must be truly embarrassing having him for a son. If I were you, I would see if I could get him _removed _from the family. I know that he is still your son, Lucius; but now he is nothing but filth. You did your best. Sometimes there is just a bad apple." Voldemort looked back down at Draco and dropped his chin causing Draco to fall to the floor. "Too bad that that apple had to be you."

Voldemort stepped away from the mess that was lying in the floor. He reached for some item in his robes. He wrapped his pale, cold fingers around the object. He slowly brought it out and let Draco have a good look at what he was holding. Draco's eyes suddenly flashed with fear. He looked up at his father, but his father showed him no emotion what so ever. He looked up to Severus; his eyes were pleading for someone to help him. His eyes began to water; he needed someone to help him. He needed someone to take pity on him and take him far away from Voldemort. But no on in that room was about to help him.

Draco's eyes returned to the man dressed in black robes that stood before him. Draco shut his eyes he didn't want to see what Voldemort was about to do with him. Voldemort laughed at the boy's innocence. "You know the punishments of your actions Mr. Malfoy. It is now time that you serve those punishments." Voldemort said before raising his wand and pointing it down at Draco and screaming out, "CRUCIO!"

Draco's young form immediately started to shake uncontrollably. You could see in his eyes that he was trying not to scream as the pain ripped through his body. Tears started to swell up in his eyes and Voldemort just began to laugh at the boy's attempt not to cry. Voldemort's eyes flashed an odd colour of red as they were filled with pure hatred. Draco couldn't suppress his screams any longer. He could feel his throat become raw and bloody from the screams.

As Harry watched the scene before him, he became sick. He watched Draco's body twitch around. Draco's skin started to rip open. Blood started to gush out of Draco's newly opened wounds. Harry could hear a sickening cracking and saw Draco's leg go limp. His head bucked against the floor and cracked open. More screams erupted into the bloody room.

Screams echoed through the Dursley's house on Privet Drive. Harry woke up panting and sweating and crying. _It was all just a dream. It was just a dream. It wasn't real. _Harry's mind started to chant before he snapped back to reality. _Wait, but last year Arthur Weasley was attacked and I saw it through a dream. Then, oh no, no, no. Draco. I've got to help him! How? I've got to tell Dumbledore or Lupin or anyone. Wait, why was Snape helping him? He's supposed to be on our side! He's in the order and everything! He's really helping Voldemort not us! _

Harry grabbed his glasses off of his table and put them on. He looked over towards Hedwig's cage. She still hadn't return. _I've let her out three days ago and she has yet to return. Where could she be? Well, there is absolutely no way that I can get in touch with Dumbledore or anyone now._

After a few minutes of trying to recollect himself and calm down his breathing, Harry could faintly hear someone screaming at him. "BOY! Get up and come down stairs!" Vernon Dursley's voice echoed through the house.

Harry relentlessly got out of his bed, put on some pants and headed down the stairs. He didn't bother getting fully dressed, as long as he had on his pants the Dursleys couldn't care less. Besides, it's not like they ever noticed Harry anyway. He was just decoration, some slave, some piece of trash. Harry quietly took his seat at the table and looked down at the meal in front of him. Toast. _Oh joy! Just what I've always wanted! A piece of fucking toast!_

Harry bitterly ate his toast and pretended to be grateful. He hated how all of them had to go on the diet, when it was only Dudley who needed to lose the weight. If anything, Harry needed to gain some weight, not lose any more weight. Harry sat and watched the Dursleys and they pretended not to notice him staring at them.

Dudley had lost _some _weight, but only enough to fit back into his Smeltings uniform. He couldn't help but agree to what some of Dudley's classmates had been calling him, Moby Dick. His uncle looked the same as always. He was still beefy with no neck and a large moustache. There was something different about his uncle that Harry couldn't point out; but nevertheless it was still there, what ever _it _was. His aunt was still the same also, although time was finally taking its toll on her.

He watched his cousin and his uncle eat their breakfast and have small talk with one another. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his aunt folding the laundry. His uncle started to hoot with laughter and shout out "That's my boy!" After obviously hearing one of Dudley's stories about beating someone up.

_If only if he knew the truth. Dudley's not beating up people half his size. Well, then again, it depends on how you look at it. They are **half **his size. Not to mention that they are all about 10 years old too. It's pathetic. He's pathetic. They are all pathetic. _

Harry saw his aunt pick up the freshly folded laundry and leave the room. After a few moments of Harry sitting there watching his uncle and cousin, and listening to another one of his cousin Dudley's stories he heard a scream coming from upstairs. The scream belonged to his aunt.

"VERNON! COME! COME HERE! AND BRING THAT BOY!"

Harry instantly knew what had happened. She had found it. She had found the hole he had punched into the wall. The next thing Harry knew his uncle had grabbed his hair and was jerking him up the stairs. "Whatever you've done now boy you're going to pay." His uncle was muttering something to himself as he drug Harry into his room.

"Look Vernon! Just look at what _it _had done."

Harry hated it when they referred to him as boy or it or freak. He preferred the name his parents had given him, Harry. He wasn't about to mention this to the Dursleys, especially not at this moment. They already looked heated enough.

"What in the devil were you thinking when you did this?" His uncle screamed in his face. Harry backed himself up against the wall trying to avoid his uncle's rage. Harry truly felt scared of his uncle.

Vernon turned back to his wife and gently began to rub her arm. "Don't worry Petunia darling. Just leave the freak to me. I'll make sure that he gets his punishment." His uncle said to his wife trying to calm her.

She started to walk out the room when she turned her head around and shot a nasty glare at Harry. He could hear his uncle walking towards him and knew that whatever he was going to do it was either going to hurt and be painful or it will be painful and hurt. His uncle grabbed his hair and ripped him up.

"Do you think that this is funny boy? Do you think it is funny to damage others property." His uncle began to snarl at him. When Harry didn't answer his uncle shoved him against the wall and shouted in his face, "WELL DO YOU?"

Harry knew better than to answer, his uncle much more preferred to stand there and yell at him. Telling him that something was wrong with him and how it's just not normal the way he response to people. But Harry just didn't feel like that today, he just wanted to see his uncle tick. He liked to watch his uncle nearly lose his mind. So Harry answered, "No sir. Not at all funny or amusing."

"Oh, so you're going to mock me now?"

"Me mock you, _never._"

"That is it boy." He stated before he started hitting Harry across the face.

Harry stood up; he was confused but he was angrier. By the time Harry completely stood up again he was knocked back down. He felt a sharp pain in his stomach again and again. When he looked to see what it was that was causing all of the pain, he saw his uncle's foot coming into contact with it.

Harry felt his hair being jerked on once again. Harry was wearily put back up on his feet. His uncle took yet another swing at him. This time his uncle's fist came into contact with his eye. Harry swung back with all of his might hitting his uncle's jaw. He could hear it make a sickening popping sound. He didn't care; all he cared about was trying to get away from his uncle.

Harry felt himself being shoved up against a wall. He felt someone grab onto his hair and beat his head into the wall. He felt weak. Blackness was beginning to swirl around his world. Harry liked the blackness; he wanted to go towards it. He wanted to lose himself in it. He felt like he was slipping away; the blackness was slowly starting to go away. Like he couldn't hold on to it anymore.

His uncle had let go of him and he fell to the floor. He was too weak to stand on his own. His legs just wouldn't support him. Harry could feel his uncle grip his hair once again and pulled him on to his feet. This time instead of hitting him he took him to the bathroom. Harry was thrown into the bathroom like a person would throw a piece of trash away.

Harry could feel his head come into contact with something and saw that it was the corner to the sink. He could hear his uncle walk off and he felt glorious that his uncle was going to leave him alone. He didn't know how, but some how he had managed to escape. He had gotten away.

Too late, he had gotten too excited too early and too fast. He could hear his uncle making his way back towards the bathroom; the bathroom in which Harry laid halfway unconscious.

He looked up and saw his uncle with a bucket of something that made the room have an awful stench and it also made Harry's world seem to go a little darker. The smell was toxic; it made him feel as if he smelled that for one more minute he would die. Harry suddenly understood that that was his uncle's exactly intention.

"Now you'll stay in here and clean up every inch of this bathroom. Do you hear me? I want this room to sparkle. You'll not get a meal until this room is clean and you'll not leave this room either. Do I make myself clear?" His uncle sneered at him.

Harry looked up at his uncle and slowly nodded his head. His uncle turned around slammed the door shut and left. Harry could hear the beefy man walk down the hall and finally down the stairs. The smell of contents in the bucket was already affecting him. Just the smell alone made him want to pass out. But he couldn't. He had work to do.

Harry slowly began to clean the bathroom, only every once in awhile his vision would start to fad in and out. Harry accidentally spilled some of the contents of the bucket on his arms and chest. It began to eat away at his skin, it burned extremely badly. He then wished that he had put on a shirt. He even felt like passing out in the bathroom. He knew that he couldn't, if he did it was likely that he would die. And he was not about to let the Dursleys have that kind of satisfaction.

Harry heard a knock on the door. At first he thought that he must have been imaging it, but then the door handle started to turn. When the door opened, it reviled Mobby Dick aka Dudley Dursley. Dudley stared down Harry and gave him an odd look.

"God that stuff stinks. How can you say in here with that? What happened to your face?" Dudley started to question him. Harry didn't answer; he figured that if he did he would probably get hit again. "_Harry, _what happened?" Dudley questioned again.

Harry was shocked; they hardly ever called him Harry. Especially Dudley. Harry tried to ignore him and started to clean the bathroom once again.

"_Harry. _What is wrong with you?" Dudley asked. Harry thought that Dudley must have lost his mind; Dudley never talks to him. Most of the time he's scared to death of him. When Harry didn't say anything this time Dudley walked further into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. "Why won't you talk? I'm not going to hit you or anything. I just want to know."

By that time Harry was in complete rage. What did Dudley think happen? He fell down the stairs or something? "Merlin. What do you think happened? You think I fell or something? This was no accident."

"What do you mean 'this was no accident?'"

"Your father."

"What? My dad wouldn't do something like that."

"Well, it sure isn't the first time that he's ever done it." Harry snapped at him.

Dudley took a minute to think before he said, "Well at least he isn't a queer."

"A queer? What? Do you think I'm gay?"

"Yes, I mean, well last year I could hear you in your room moaning out Cedric. So far this year it's been Sirius. Well, until last night. Last night you were moaning out Draco. What am I supposed to think?"

"I don't know what you're supposed to think Dudley. Even if I was gay, that's not why you've heard me moaning out."

"Oh _really._ Why else would you be moaning out in the middle of the night? Why else would you be saying their names if the weren't your lovers?"

This just pushed Harry over the edge. _How dare he talk about them like that. _"No Dudley they weren't my lovers. Cedric and Sirius were murdered! You would think that if you had to watch someone be murdered that you might have some nightmares about it. How would you like every time you close your eyes you saw the only person who cared for you die! HOW WOULD YOU LIKE IT IF YOUR GODFATHER WAS MURDERED RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR EYES!"

"Well yours deserved it. He was a murder."

"No he wasn't. He never did it. Someone else killed them."

"What about Draco? Huh, you never said anything about him dieing?"

"That's because he isn't dead, yet."

"Then why were you saying his name?"

"Because, Dudley, last night I had to watch him be tortured."

"Well why do you dream about those things? Can't you just dream about something else?"

"No Dudley I can't. I have no control over what I dream. All I can do is dream. Sometimes I have good dreams, but most the time they are just nightmares. Nightmares of stuff that I know you could never even imagine."

"Well you would think that there would be something that _you _could do. I mean with magic."

"Dudley just shut up and go away. I don't even know why your in hear. Just go away."

Dudley opened the door and started to walk back out of the bathroom but then he turned back around, "I still think you are a queer." And then he opened the door and began to walk out.

But before he shut the door back Harry shouted at him, "SO WHAT IF I AM A QUEER! WHAT IN THE FUCKING HELL DOES IT MATTER TO YOU! OH! I UNDERSTAND NOW! YOU JUST WISH I WAS GAY SO YOU COULD HAVE A SHOT AT ME. WELL GUESS WHAT FATASS EVEN THEN PIECE OF MEAT WOULDN'T FUCKING TOUCH YOU'RE ASS!"

Dudley slammed the door shut. Harry could hear Dudley walk back downstairs. Harry knew what he had done was a mistake, but at the same time, he would do it again and again. A few minutes later he could hear someone walking back up the stairs. The bathroom suddenly flew open. There in the doorway was a red faced Vernon Dursley.

"What were you thinking, boy? Calling _MY _SON A QUEER!"

Harry saw his uncle slam the door behind him. He then knew that he was definitely going to be in trouble now. Harry could feel his hair being jerk up. Once he had stood up his uncle shoved him up against the wall. His uncle grabbed his hair and rammed his head into the wall. Harry felt dizzy and couldn't hold himself up any longer; he fell to the floor on his stomach.

Harry could hear something behind him. It sounded faintly like someone removing a belt from their jeans. Harry's mind was screaming for him to get up and run away, but Harry's body just wasn't strong enough to get up off of the floor. Harry felt his uncle's belt come into contact with the skin on his back.

Harry's breaths were now coming in ragged pants. He was terrified of what his uncle was doing. Harry was in shock, he couldn't move, he couldn't yell out for help, all he could do is lay there. All he wanted to do was to scream out for help, but his voice just wouldn't yell out. Harry finally managed to scream out, but it was too late.

Tears started to swell up in Harry's eyes. Harry felt his uncle grab on to his hair and shoved his head down onto the cold tile floor. Tears were now pouring out of Harry's eyes. He couldn't help himself; the pain he was feeling was just too much. Harry could feel his uncle grab his hair once again. He shoved Harry's head down onto the floor.

Pain shot through Harry's body as his head came into contact with the floor. His vision blurred and everything started to grow darker. The last thing Harry saw was his uncle walking back out of the bathroom. He could hear his uncle saying something that sounded like "punishment." Then everything went black and Harry knew that he had passed out.

To Be Continued…

**Author's Note: **Well here's this weeks dose of Rage and Mystification! Please, please review! I'll update Saturday! See-ya!


End file.
